


Progress

by timetosin



Category: Spider-Man: Into the Spider-Verse (2018)
Genre: Angst, Coping, F/M, Heavy Angst, Infertility, Post-Divorce, Reader Insert, and eventually find peace, no y/n, reader/peter, sad to eventually happy, two divorced people fall in love, you are divorcee hot dad dilf is divorcee, you curse a lot you're angry and from new york
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-30
Updated: 2019-03-29
Packaged: 2019-12-26 14:09:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,441
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18283871
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/timetosin/pseuds/timetosin
Summary: Marriage isn't easy, yours has recently ended due to unpleasant circumstances. Taking your anger out on the masked hero of the streets becomes a comfortable cop out to deal with the divorce. Eventually, Spider-Man snakes his way into your life in more ways than one.





	Progress

White dress, lavender wrapped in ribbon in your hands, a summer of slim fast and salads.

You tried to wash the memories from your mind as you violently scrubbed your face until it was raw. Approximately four hours ago, you sat across from the man who was supposed to grow old with you and signed away four years of love. How had it been so easy, so easy to throw in the towel and walk away?

Splashing water in your face and clearing your throat, you uncurled from over the sink and stared at your reflection, puffy tear stained cheeks staring right back at you.

Somewhere deep within you, a sigh arose and your shoulders gently relaxed.

The tanned circle encircling your left ring finger would fade eventually, the sun would rise once more over lady liberty, and one day maybe you’d be able to provide the child he always asked for.

You felt empty, but at least the pressure was gone.

Tonight, you let yourself indulge and enjoyed a tub of ice cream alone in sweats and watched the TV screen numbly as flashes of the neighborhood spider with a reporter rapidly babbling filled your mind. Spider-Man was stupid, he was just another stupid man who thought the world could only be fixed by him, his desires were the only important thing. You didn’t mean to be bitter, but you couldn’t help the sinking feeling that overtook you and thus began your conditioned response to dislike Spider-Man.

The remote broke from how roughly you slammed the button to turn it off as it clattered to the hardwood floor.

* * *

 

“Eh, I can give you a good thousand five hundred.”

You scoffed and arched a threaded brow at the pawn shop owner.

“You have to be fucking kidding me, listen look at the size of the damn rock. It’s worth at least five thousand.”

Sure, you were annoyed but at least you felt like a normal person, you felt like you were back in _normal_ New York. Something about being talked down to and standing up for yourself was cathartic, being unpleasant felt right. At your job, an upscale restaurant where you served, a coworker got wind of your divorce and the gossip flew.

All your fellow wait staff now played the cruel game of exaggerated pity, softer requests, overuse of “honey”, and the unprompted asking how you’re feeling. The cooks give you slack, which they never had before, the hostesses sit you nicely and give you that sad smile.

You wanted to curse, spit, force them to let you retain some sort of stability in your life. If you couldn’t escape at work where was your mind supposed to go?

“Look, sweetie. You want to get this ring off your hands, don’t you? Doesn’t seem like you have much use for it now.”

You couldn’t help the fact your lips curled up in annoyance, laughing bitterly you slid the ring across the counter.

“Fuck it.”

The woman’s smile widened knowing she had hit a nerve but nether less she persisted digging deeper.

“Ah, don’t be so upset dear, I’ll give you three thousand since you were so understanding.”

At this moment, the TV screen blaring the news behind the pawn shop keepers head focused on Spider-Man. In Spider-Man’s arms, a woman clung onto him as he saved her from some flaming building.

Another bad memory associated with the amazing Spider-Man.

Your brows furrowed deeper and deeper as the woman swiped the ring and moved to get your cash. Her eyes flickered to your face, your expression must have been gnarly for the amused huff she made to draw your attention back from the TV screen.

She turned her head to follow your gaze and watched the newsreel as well.

“He’s getting fat, huh?”

You practically spat as you took the cash from her outstretched hand.

“Yeah, real fucking fat. Should probably stop imposing himself on things that don’t involve him.”

* * *

 

Maybe you had classically conditioned yourself to hate Spider-Man, all the anger from the divorce could easily be funneled into the “hero”. How often had his presence brought more drastic and high scale danger rather than resolve it?

You spoke your thoughts about the masked hero over lunch with your closest friends, but you could see the slight ice in their gazes. Of course, they were all enamored with him. You lifted your glass and Charlotte, the woman who had been your maid of honor, refilled your cup.

The marron liquid almost overfilled the glass and you had no problem tilting your head back and letting the tart wine flood your throat.

The restaurant you were all in was almost empty, dimmed for the later hours, and families and couples charted quietly. It was a restaurant just like this one where you had gone on your first date with your ex-husband. He had walked you from your apartment, held the door open, insisted on doing everything and anything to make it a perfect night for you.

He hadn’t pushed to be let in, kissed you politely at the door, sent you flowers.

Charlotte prodded you with a piece of bread, which you accepted with extra butter, she rubbed your back. You wish she didn’t, you felt weak when people constantly treated you like you were so broken, you were not broken, he was broken! He hadn’t broken you, he just wanted a baby that your body couldn’t give.

Your marriage wasn’t terrible, it just couldn’t withstand disappointment after disappointment. The lack of children leads to a lack of satisfaction, you couldn’t help that though, your body tried, you had done your best. The disappointment in your body extended to a disappointment in you, he pushed himself on issues that didn’t involve him, invaded your trust, invaded your free will. The incessant begging for fertility shots that don’t work, constant pleading for a second opinion, eventually reminding you he was the hero you were the villain who couldn’t get pregnant.

“Hey, what are you thinking about?”

Charlotte’s imploring blue eyes caught yours and you forced yourself to eat. You smiled and shook your head gently and her hand rubbed that burning circle into your spine.

“Oh, just tired. I have a long week ahead of me.”

Her hand gently dropped from your back and she gave you the respect to privacy although she already knew what you were thinking about. When the food was served every bite felt like concrete in your stomach, you drank glass after glass of wine, you laughed too loud.

Without thinking you drunkenly slurred out your initial dislike of Spider-Man once more.

Your voice was drowned out in the general chatter though, you’re left to continue simmering in your own narrow hatred toward that hero another night.

* * *

 

“Hello.”

The greeting was echoed by a circle of dull-eyed divorcees.

“I’d rather not share my name. I’m only here because my friend thought it would be good for me and help me cope. I don’t really think I’m doing that bad, but I lost a bet…here I am. I got divorced almost a year ago.”

There was a soft mulling among the support group, and you pursed your lips looking for the clock. The coffee in your Styrofoam cup was lukewarm and flavorless and the cookie you ate was cardboard, everything here was the definition of neutral.

“Thank you for sharing, would you maybe like to elaborate about your marriage?”

The group leader was a middle-aged man with large round glasses who seemed to wheeze with every breath. You wanted to shake your head no but the imploring eyes around you were begging to share in your suffering. As you opened your mouth to reply the door behind the support circle creaked open and a man came stumbling in.

Everyone turned to look as he straightened himself out and offered a small wave.

He was attractive, he was tall, he had a moderate pudge on his muscular frame.

With a strong jawline covered by salt and pepper stubble, brown eyes, and sharp nose the man sat directly across from you in the circle.

Your eyes flickered up and caught his and slowly but surely a smirk snaked its way across his handsome face. You could see the dark bags under his eyes that probably looked just like yours, but for that moment the two of you were too involved in one another than the group.

“Hello, Peter. Late again we see!”

The group leader chuckled as did most of the group and Peter nodded but his eyes did not leave yours.

At least you knew he was single.


End file.
